Seniors Not Acting Their Age http://rchase.bangordailynews.com
Sun, 20 May 2018 20:12:15 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.8.2133800997Canoe Tripping Maine Rivershttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/20/canoe-tripping-maine-rivers/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/20/canoe-tripping-maine-rivers/#respondSun, 20 May 2018 20:09:30 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=308Maine has many of the best canoe tripping rivers in the northeastern United States. The Allagash, St. John, Moose, St. Croix and East and West Branches of the Penobscot are probably the most famous. However, there are others worth considering.

Canoe tripping was my introduction to paddle sports. I began with large northern Maine lakes in the 1970s and quickly progressed to rivers. My favorite trip is the Machias River in Washington County. Since 1978, I’ve completed about thirty Machias voyages sharing them with scores of boating friends.

Perhaps the best kept river tripping secret in Maine, the Machias River flows for about eighty miles from Fifth Machias Lake to the coast in Machias. In between, it offers virtually everything that a dedicated river enthusiast could want; beautiful pristine lakes, dozens of rapids that range up to Class IV in difficulty and a waterfall. There are several access points that facilitate shorter trips and numerous outstanding campsites. Depending upon paddling abilities and water levels, some portages may be necessary. Virtually everyone carries around impressive hazardous Holmes Falls.

My basic criteria for a spring canoe trip is twofold; high water and no blackflies. That generally means late April or early May on the Machias and a little later for the more northern rivers. Spring canoe tripping isn’t for the faint of heart and doesn’t come easy. Temperatures are usually cool and the water icy cold. Friends and I have endured snowstorms on the Machias and St. John. Even in the best weather, paddlers can expect frozen hands, cold wet feet and chilly sometimes frigid nights.

The cold has one significant advantage, blackflies hate it. For me, nothing is more unwelcome on a canoe trip than those nasty little blood suckers crawling in what little hair I have left, flying into my eyes or hitchhiking a ride on a spoonful of chili. While I understand their importance in the food chain, I prefer to be the missing link. Carefully planning to avoid the offensive insects usually works, however I always pack a head net and the usual assortment of ineffective bug stuff.

If blackflies can be avoided, the next most important ingredient to enjoyable spring paddling is wearing the right clothing. In 1978, I wore old running shoes, jeans, and a wool top and was almost hypothermic. Now, I dress in a dry suit with several layers of warm clothing underneath and thick neoprene footgear. Heavy duty paddling mitts and a hooded shell to protect from rain or snow are prerequisites. It’s amazing how much being warm and dry enhances the quality of a canoe trip.

Canoe tripping, particularly in the spring, is quite demanding. Navigating a boat full of gear down challenging rapids requires strength, stamina, skill and determination. Perhaps that’s why I’m finding it more difficult to recruit expedition companions among my aging friends.

Again this year, I attempted to organize a Machias River trip. Unfortunately, the river gods didn’t cooperate. The first effort fell through due to illness, unplanned dental surgery and exceptionally high water. It seems old people are always between doctor and dental appointments. A last minute vehicle problem resulted in a second failure. Later trips almost guaranteed blackfly attendance so I scrapped the Machias idea.

Almost simultaneously, a longtime canoe tripping friend contacted me with an Allagash proposal. Alas, late winter snowstorms had rendered the roads impassable. We almost reserved a flight into Umsaskis Lake on the waterway when we were informed that flood level water and ice jams had made the river unsafe. Park Rangers had closed the lower portion.

Three strikes and you’re out may not be the case this time. While discussing possible river options with Norm L’Italien at Pelletier Campground in St. Francis, I inquired about a trip on the most northern of Maine rivers; the St. Francis. While cautioning me about past border crossing problems during the shuttle, he thought it could be arranged.

The Appalachian Mountain Club Maine River Guide indicates that it’s a 56 mile Class I, II and III trip with two significant lake traverses. The description has an implicit weakness as it hasn’t been updated since at least 1976. Ready to go, I needed a victim…..I mean companion.

The river gods have granted a reprieve. Recently retired outdoor buddy Brent Elwell is also intrigued with the prospect of exploring a new river. We only know of one team of paddlers who have completed the journey and information is sketchy. The elements of a most interesting escapade appear to be present.

We’ve packed our bags, arranged the shuttle and the water is high. I hope to report on our exploits in my next blog. If we can avoid blackflies and border disputes, I’m optimistic.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/20/canoe-tripping-maine-rivers/feed/0308Growing Old in Whitewaterhttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/07/growing-old-in-whitewater/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/07/growing-old-in-whitewater/#respondMon, 07 May 2018 13:09:18 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=305Many of the whitewater boaters that I paddle with began the sport thirty or forty years ago. Now, we’re in our sixties, seventies and a handful in their eighties.

We’ve witnessed much of the evolution of the sport which first became popular nationally in the seventies. Many people including myself credit the whitewater adventures depicted in the movie Deliverance as a major source of the initial widespread enthusiasm. The most exciting scenes were filmed on the Chattooga River and Warwoman Creek in Georgia. Not long after the movie was released in 1972, those waterways became the focus of frequent pilgrimages by whitewater wannabes. An unfortunate consequence, a hazardous section of the Chattooga attracted large numbers of paddlers and has been the site of numerous fatalities.

Early whitewater canoes were traditional wilderness tripping boats lacking maneuverability and far too heavy. Most of the kayaks were homemade fiberglass creations. Prototype crafts had a commonality they were much too long and didn’t give adequate consideration to comfort, safety and the inherent risks involved in whitewater.

By the eighties whitewater boating had become a much more conventional activity and boat designs improved accordingly. Larger kayak cockpits greatly reduced the chance of entrapment undoubtedly saving many lives. Both canoes and kayaks were shortened providing greater quickness that facilitated descending steep constricted rapids. Hull shapes resembling bananas called rocker were developed allowing paddlers to turn their boats with relative ease. Probably the most significant innovation was the use of plastic to construct boats that were extremely durable and almost unbreakable. Empowered paddlers began challenging rapids and even waterfalls that were previously deemed impossible to navigate.

While we seniors have witnessed the remarkable growth and advancement of whitewater paddling, we’ve changed too. We’re older. Our physical abilities have diminished, mental acuity has declined and many of us have endured health problems. Twenty years ago, we were in our prime and the boats we chose maximized performance often at the expense of comfort and sometimes safety.

My personal experiences are perhaps emblematic of the issues faced by many aging boaters. I started paddling whitewater in canoes, which required kneeling for effective boat control and stability. A knee replacement rendered regular canoeing difficult and painful. Kayaking became the means to continue an activity I loved. Recently, arthritis in my hips has caused uninvited pain when kayaking. After some experimentation, I’ve ordered a kayak ergonomically designed to provide greater comfort. While the new boat will place some limitations on performance, the singular goal is to extend my paddling life.

Shoulder issues and tendonitis particularly in the elbows are also common physical problems encountered by aging whitewater devotees. Little things like getting in and out of boats have become more problematic. What used to be simple activities that were easily accomplished often require planning and sometimes assistance. Unlike the past when we did our own heavy lifting, loading and unloading boats is usually a team effort. It’s not unusual for me to sit in my kayak at a takeout nursing sore hips and contemplating an exit strategy that will avoid falling in the water. I never decline an offer for help.

Mental acumen is an essential element of effective whitewater paddling and something that tends to diminish with age. Paddling difficult rapids requires confidence and presence of mind. Quickly identifying required maneuvers and decisively executing them is crucial. Anxiety, fear and indecision are the enemies. Many of us have found the need to lower the level of difficulty and excitement we’re willing to engage to address this issue.

Age has its advantages. I now have a cadre of retired and semi-retired paddling companions who are regularly available for whitewater adventures. Instead of being limited to weekends, we choose the best weather days when water levels are at a premium.

A recent trip on the Sheepscot River in Alna is a good example. The water level was near perfect and the forecast sunny and warm. My longtime friend, eighty year old Brunswick resident Carolyn Welch proposed a last minute trip. Three of us retired duffers took our meds and signed on for the midweek escapade. Youthful paddlers would probably have chuckled at our boats which were relics from a previous era but we had a most excellent excursion.

For many of us gray-haired geriatric paddlers, whitewater boating is a passion we will never willingly surrender. An abiding romance with a pursuit that consumes us each spring, we’ll continue to make concessions and seek alternatives to stay on the water for as long as possible.

As we say in the paddling world, see you on the river.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/05/07/growing-old-in-whitewater/feed/0305Whitewater Weekendhttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/23/whitewater-weekend/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/23/whitewater-weekend/#respondMon, 23 Apr 2018 17:41:50 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=297For many years, Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS) members have organized an April whitewater weekend in New Hampshire. Normally, several excellent whitewater rivers and streams in the southern central part of the state open in April offering exciting early season paddling opportunities. Popular Class III/IV runs include Contoocook, Ashuelot, Otter, Warner and Smith.

This year an extended winter has kept water levels lower than usual. The large volume Contoocook was rocking but steep mountain streams were borderline or too low. Since there were only two of us available for the first day of the weekend adventure, the need for river negotiations were minimal. Eggman DeCoster and I decided on the infrequently paddled more northerly Bearcamp River near Tamworth.

The first time I paddled the Class II/IV Bearcamp was with a large contingent of Appalachian Mountain Club members in 1990. Everyone paddled fourteen and fifteen foot solo canoes in high water. With a couple of minor exceptions all of the rapids were successfully negotiated in the old fashioned crafts. Four years ago, a team of chowderheads returned to the Bearcamp on a cold stormy day paddling state of the art whitewater canoes and kayaks. My creek kayak didn’t help much as I carelessly stumbled into an unforgiving hole followed by an unpleasant out of boat experience.

As Eggman aptly observed, I was back for redemption. This time we had a sunny cold day with medium low water. Exercising old age caution, we reconnoitered the scene of my previous misadventure while completing the vehicle shuttle. Scouting was the answer as we found a route that avoided the menacing hole resulting in exciting calamity free runs. Just below is a Class IV rapid called The Gorge. The sporting route is a twisting narrow channel right of an island that ends with a decidedly unfriendly hydraulic that almost guarantees rolling practice. After a careful inspection factoring in the icy water and cold air, we made the conservative choice going left of the island scraping down a bumpy safer channel. When the day ended several inches of water had accumulated in my kayak. The cause was a crack in the hull; too many rock encounters on too many rivers.

Duct tape was the answer for a paddle on the Contoocook the following morning. Running about two thousand cubic feet per second, rock scraping was not a major concern. Our group consisted of seven chowderheads from around New England with Maine, New Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Rhode Island represented. The Class III/IV Contoocook consists of 2.5 miles of feisty waves while maneuvering through boulder gardens climaxing with the most difficult rapid ominously called Freight Train. Whitewater boaters seem predisposed to assign unsavory names like Meat Cleaver, Big Splat and Pure Screaming Hell to rapids. My preference would be softer gentler monikers like Marshmallow Rips, Lollipop Falls or Powder Puff Pitch, a concept that hasn’t caught on. The duct tape held and everyone stayed upright for a rousing run on the powerful locomotive.

Chowderheads separated for afternoon adventures with four paddlers driving west to the Ashuelot while Eggman, a kid named Evan and I decided to challenge a solid Class IV section of the nearby Warner. A steep technical descent with lots of slides, rock bouncing and abrupt pitches, three duct tape replacements were required during the two mile trip.

This old man wasn’t really on his game either. After dodging what seemed like a few dozen gnarly boulders in a rapid enchantingly called Pinball, I missed my line at the bottom of an ancient dam sluice tumbling backwards through a constricted array of large rocks and old mill abutments. Through good fortune not skill, I somehow managed to remain upright without pinning or broaching.

All three of us successfully navigated down five consecutive precipitous falls in the upper portion of a steep narrow gorge. However my misguided plan to jump over a shallow ledge just below was only partially successful. The first half went well but the second didn’t; leaving me and my kayak precariously dangling over the edge. Rocking back and forth, I fell off nearly upside down. A desperate survival brace kept me upright and avoided a roll in the shallow rock strewn rapid. Observing my predicament, my clever younger companions went left.

When we splashed into an eddy at the takeout, I expressed frustration with the quality of my descent observing, “I’m too old for this.” By the time I had driven halfway home, I was contemplating the next trip and thinking about buying a new kayak.

Never gonna grow up, never gonna grow up!

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/23/whitewater-weekend/feed/0297Misadventures on Souadabscook Streamhttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/16/misadventures-on-souadabscook-stream/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/16/misadventures-on-souadabscook-stream/#respondMon, 16 Apr 2018 13:09:23 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=290Souadabscook Stream is one of Maine’s most popular early spring whitewater runs. While most of it is located in Hampden, the source is a collection of small ponds in the Hermon area. Beginning with several miles of calm water and mild currents before arriving at Manning Mill Road, the stream then turns into a tumultuous assortment of rapids and falls that tumbles to the Penobscot River.

Since formation of the Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS) in 1969, challenging the Sou has been a rite of spring for many chowderheads. A coastal stream, it’s usually one of the first waterways to experience ice out. For several years, club members have scheduled an “icebreaker” exploratory on the Sou for our first official trip. This spring, the initial excursion was postponed for a week due to low water, too much ice and wintry weather. Nearly cancelled a second time it was resurrected after a rainstorm raised the water flow to a premium level.

My first encounter with the Sou was about forty years ago. A paddling buddy and I rented an eighteen foot aluminum canoe for our descent. Wearing jeans, running shoes and wool sweaters, we survived a frosty ride from Hermon to the Penobscot. While obviously lacking in good judgment, we did have the sense to don life jackets. Miraculously, we somehow stayed in our boat. However, much of the day was consumed kneeling in several inches of ice water. My friend lived near the takeout where we spent some serious time huddled next to his woodstove thawing out. His wife wasn’t impressed.

A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then and much has changed. Now, chowderheads arrive at the river wearing dry suits, wet suits, helmets, neoprene footwear and state of the art whitewater life jackets. The difference in boats is cosmic. Crafts designed specifically for whitewater are the norm and have changed the sport. Paddlers are running rapids and doing stunts that were unthinkable thirty years ago. The average length of a whitewater kayak is probably eight feet. Canoe designs have changed even more radically.

The Sou is normally the third competition in the Maine downriver race circuit. Possessing steep technical rapids and falls, it’s arguably the most difficult. For many years, the PPCS has provided safety for the race while some members are regular competitors. Having been both racer and rescuer, I can attest that the event is always a rousing chaotic affair. Fishing participants from the icy stream is a normal part of the process.

Our recent trip on the Sou was not a race just six enthusiastic paddlers in search of their first whitewater adrenaline rush of the year. Foregoing the flat water as usual, we launched just below Manning Mill Bridge on a cold, sunny day with snow on the banks and ice shelves along much of the shore. After some gentle waves, our group arrived at an almost river wide hole that is a popular play spot. Concerned with flipping in the frigid water, our visit was short lived.

Continuing downstream, we navigated through Boy Scout Rapid and plunged over steep Emerson Mill Falls. Below the falls, we lingered to surf some excellent play waves. Navigating through two more entertaining rapids we approached exacting Crawford Falls. Prudently boat scouting our way through the complex boulder garden with multiple opportunities for upset, everyone had successful runs.

Our fortunes took a turn for the worse shortly after in a rapid under Papermill Road Bridge. An unseen log lodged just below the surface halted and turned the first paddler causing her to spill sideways into a powerful surging hole. We were instantly in chase of the swimming canoeist and her runaway boat. A tranquil pool below facilitated a relatively easy rescue.

Great Falls, the most substantial rapid on the stream, is just beyond. A precipitous Class IV+ descent, three in our group chose to plummet down the intimidating falls while the others opted to portage right. Everyone reveled in the stimulating Class III run out.

After a circuitous stretch of flat water, we surfed some waves at Snowmobile Bridge Rapid and negotiated a tricky pitch immediately below. Persisting to the final Class III, an S Turn, the difficulty level was substantially enhanced by a fallen tree on the left, another bottom right and a wide hole in the middle. Accidentally surfed by the hole, a canoeist then flushed into the right strainer hazardously pinning his boat rendering him precariously perched on the tree. A substantial team effort was required to extricate the damaged canoe and safely reunite it with the owner.

Experiencing thrills, successes and mishaps, it was a typical spring day on the Sou.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/16/misadventures-on-souadabscook-stream/feed/0290Remembering Skip on the St. Georgehttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/09/remembering-skip-on-the-st-george/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/09/remembering-skip-on-the-st-george/#respondMon, 09 Apr 2018 13:18:10 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=283
Skip and Jo Pendleton were members of the Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS) for a couple of decades. After a 65 year marriage, they both passed away last year, just a few days apart.

I didn’t know Jo very well as she was not active in club adventures. What I did know was that she was a very vibrant, vivacious person who was a joy to be around.

I first met Skip about fifteen years ago. In his seventies, he was just taking up whitewater paddling. While beginning a challenging sport at that age may seem unusual to many, it was vintage Skip. An outdoor enthusiast who had undertaken a trans-Atlantic crossing from Belfast to Ireland in a 38 foot sloop with a friend and their two teenage daughters, he was game for just about any outdoor adventure. Late in his life, he twice cycled across the United States. Adding an addendum to that accomplishment, he completed a bicycle traverse of Labrador and much of Newfoundland. His entire life was a succession of exceptional exploits. By his remarkable standards engaging whitewater in his twilight years was a natural fit.

Skip was more than a great Dad, loving husband and outdoorsman extraordinaire. Few people contribute more to the world around them than Skip did. He maintained a section of the Appalachian Trail, assisted in creation of the Belfast High School ski team and was a major player in constructing trails and footbridges in the greater Belfast area. For many years, he assisted and provided safety for the St. George and Passagassawakeag River Races. I could go on about his contributions and accomplishments but I think readers get the point. Skip was a truly exceptional guy.

One of my first paddling experiences with Skip was on Marsh Stream near Frankfort. Part of a PPCS group organizing to provide safety for the annual Marsh Stream Race, it was a cold, raw rainy day with snow on the banks and ice shelves along the stream. Seventy plus Skip flipped his canoe in the first rapid swimming in the frigid water. Once his boat was recovered, he jumped back in without a word of complaint.

Later that same day, he expressed interest in kayaking. After a brief discussion about my boat, Skip announced that kayaking would be next on his outdoor agenda. I sold him an old whitewater kayak and the next time I met him on a river, he was in it.

A section of the St. George River beginning in Searsmont was Skip’s favorite whitewater run. He and I paddled it together numerous times. Others would occasionally join us but often it was just the two of us. During one of those escapades, he coined the term “AARPYs” to describe a group of us older paddlers. The unique moniker stuck.

For the first time in many years, Skip is not with us for spring paddling. Fellow chowderhead Carolyn Welch and I felt the PPCS needed to do something to remember and honor Skip and Jo. The choice was easy; a Skip and Jo Pendleton Memorial Paddle on the St. George River.

On the first day of April nine paddlers and two photographers met at a small parking area next to the Route 105 Bridge over the St. George in North Appleton. The takeout for a five mile Class I/II whitewater trip, we held a short ceremony before transporting boats and paddlers to the launch in Searsmont.

Just quick water for the first two miles, the gentle pace provided an opportunity to relate a story about my last trip with Skip on the St. George. We spent over an hour in that same area cutting a path for boaters through a fallen tree. Using a small handsaw he carried in his kayak, it was arduous cumbersome work but Skip was on a mission. A race was scheduled for a few days later and he was concerned about safety.

Just before the Ghent Road Bridge, the whitewater began in earnest with a long Class II rapid. The narrow river twisting and turning, whitewater continued unabated for more than a mile. After a short section of flat water, we descended the steepest drop on the river, Magog Chute. Our journey ended with a pleasant stretch of calm water paddling through a pasture that was once part of an old farm.

My estimate, the average age of our group was about 65. That seems a fitting tribute to a paddler who began the sport in his seventies and ended in his eighties. He was an inspiration. Memories of that special day with Skip and Jo on our minds will long remain, particularly during our spring trips on the St. George.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/09/remembering-skip-on-the-st-george/feed/0283Chowderheads in Transitionhttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/03/chowderheads-in-transition/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/03/chowderheads-in-transition/#respondTue, 03 Apr 2018 12:56:51 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=269Early spring is a time of transition for chowderheads in the Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS). Ice and snow are melting on the whitewater rivers; yet vestiges of winter remain at many preferred cross country ski areas. We often find ourselves in conflict about what choices to make.

Since the coastal streams and rivers normally open first, many of us have been carefully watching popular early season whitewater runs like Souadabscook Stream in Hampden, St. George River in Searsmont and the Sheepscot River in Whitefield. Not coincidentally, they were my first whitewater experiences over forty years ago and I’ve returned to them almost every spring since.

The Souadabascook and St. George are part of the downriver racing circuit that begins on the last Saturday of March and includes the iconic Kenduskeag Stream Race later in the season. Several chowderheads are regular racers. Bruce Weik is a former National Whitewater Kayak Champion and ageless canoeist Clayton Cole has amassed scores of victories over several decades. While lacking their outstanding credentials, spring races have often been part of my agenda since my first race on the St. George in 1980. Navigating an eighteen foot tripping canoe with a paddling buddy, we portaged the aircraft carrier around a Class II rapid. A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then.

An annual chowderhead dilemma is when to stop skiing and begin whitewater paddling. Ice out, water levels and remaining snow accumulation all play roles in the decision making. If rivers and streams are open and water is high, that generally means much of the ice has melted signaling that it’s time to unpack our paddles. Conversely, if there is still significant snowpack and evidence of lingering ice on the waterways, it may be premature to put the skis and snowshoes away.

This year chowderheads have faced the usual disparities. Two club trips were scheduled for the first weekend of spring. Eggman DeCoster was leading an “ice breaker” descent of the Souadabscook on Saturday while Carolyn Welch and I planned a Skip Pendleton Memorial Paddle on the St. George on Sunday.

The Souadabscook was first to be cancelled followed closely by the St. George. Water levels were too low, wintry weather was forecast and there were concerns about ice and access.

There’s a silver lining in every cloud. Snowpack remained deep in many places so skiing was a viable alternative. Visions of a surf and glide dancing in his head, Eggman changed his trip to a cross country ski at Harris Farm in Dayton followed by canoe and kayak rolling practice at the Biddeford YMCA. Still clinging to skis and my kayak roll in need of work, I quickly signed on.

Dodging what seemed like hundreds of participants on Maine Maple Weekend at Harris Farm, we had an excellent ski with superlative soft snow. The consistency was sufficiently damp to facilitate an effective kick and glide yet soft enough for controlled descents. I’ll miss the nice folks at Harris Farm until the snow returns next winter.

My first ever rolling practice at the Biddeford YMCA pool, I was impressed with their facility and the turnout. About a dozen canoes, sea kayaks and whitewater crafts were bobbing in the pool when we arrived. A reliable kayak roll is essential for difficult whitewater paddling. Many solo canoeists survive the sport without a roll however acquiring one is a game changer. The quality of my kayak roll has diminished in recent years; probably a combination of old age and less practice. A Class IV canoeist, Eggman has struggled to perfect the elusive canoe roll. Joined by another chowderhead, Bill Stafford, the three of us diligently worked together to identify flaws in our respective techniques. After two hours of experimentation, we left satisfied that improvements had been made.

After cancelling our St. George River paddling excursion, I scheduled another PPCS Nordic ski trip at the Jackson Touring Center in Jackson, New Hampshire for the following day. We again had splendid ski conditions particularly in wooded areas shielded from the sun. Ominous patches of brown grass in the fields were clear signs that the skiing season would soon end. While Jackson ski area closes at the beginning of April, there are usually skiing options on the higher elevation trails such as Hall, Maple Mountain and Prospect Farm for a couple of additional weeks.

If I’m still breathing air my next column will report on spring paddling. Will it be the St. George, Sheepscot, Souadabscook or another river or stream? Difficult to say for certain but I’m confident that chowderheads will be out of the pools and paddling whitewater next week.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/04/03/chowderheads-in-transition/feed/0269Peak Bagging can be Addictivehttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/26/peak-bagging-can-be-addictive/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/26/peak-bagging-can-be-addictive/#respondMon, 26 Mar 2018 17:04:18 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=263A confession, I’m a recovering peak bagger. Defined as an attempt to reach the summit of a list of mountains, peak bagging is a great sport…if you can handle it responsibly. In New England, there are several popular mountain lists. Probably the most coveted goals are four thousand footers and the New England One Hundred Highest Peaks. An even more challenging variation is to climb them during the winter.

When I got hooked in the early 1990s, climbing the One Hundred Highest Peaks in New England in the Winter was the granddaddy of all New England peak bagging accomplishments. Since then, new more imaginative lists have been contrived. In recovery and resisting their habit-forming qualities, I avoid even thinking about them. Peak bagging is a global ailment. The high point in each state is the big enchilada domestically. Yep, I started that one. Some intrepid alpinists aspire to climb the highest summits on each continent. Supposedly the affliction began in Scotland with a list called the Munro Mountains. I climbed the highest, Ben Nevis. Was sorely enticed, but the cost of transportation was prohibitive and the shuttle time-consuming.

How I allowed myself to fall into this alpine conundrum is a fair question. Like most people who get hooked on something, I was young, impressionable and thought it would make me appear cool. Since I’m seventy, if you do the math, you’ll note that I wasn’t that young but I was very impressionable. Climbing mountains in the winter was literally and figuratively an irresistibly cool attraction.

One of the benefits of peak bagging is that it takes climbers to mountains and localities they probably wouldn’t visit otherwise. In the throes of that onerous compulsion, I spent winter vacations in Vermont, New Hampshire and Baxter State Park. My mountaineering friends and I bushwhacked to the summit of obscure peaks like Dorset and Mendon in Vermont and Peak above the Nubble and Vose Spur in New Hampshire. The most notorious of all bushwhacks was Scar Ridge near Lincoln, New Hampshire which entailed fording Hancock Stream in frigid waist deep water. We stayed in little motels in towns like Bennington and Twin Mountain, tented in Baxter State Park and spent two infamous nights in the now demolished Cascade Inn in Woodstock, New Hampshire. What happened in the Cascade, stayed in the Cascade.

Adventures aside, the most compelling attraction were the friendships. Some of my mountaineering companions are the closest friends I’ve ever had. During the darkest days of my dependency, about a dozen of us were out in the mountains every weekend during the winter. A group of friends pursuing the same goal is a powerful motivator.

I finished my list in February of 1997. A good friend encouraged me to start climbing the Adirondack four thousand footers. Avoiding temptation, I entered a 12 step program instead. No more lists. I would join friends on climbs that appealed and skip the others. If I wanted to ski, I would. I’ve been clean for twenty years.

Some of my mountaineering playmates are still out bagging peaks. I can be around them without weakening. Recently, friends Gary & Suzanne Cole announced a hike on Mount Waumbek scheduled for the last weekend of winter. One of the easiest New Hampshire four thousand footers, there are excellent views part way to the top on Starr King Mountain. None of us “needed” it for a list, so it would be an addiction free climb.

Wikipedia indicates Waumbek probably means ‘snowing mountains’ in Indian dialect. My Native American ancestors were all over this. We had tons of snow.

Beginning at a parking area on the south side of Route 2 in Jefferson, we crossed the highway and walked up Starr King Road to the trailhead. Northwest winds were gusting just shy of brutal. Confident the mountain would shield us, we pressed on. Wind speeds increased. The snow was very deep but earlier hikers had broken trail. Snowshoes were a necessity. Hikers who post-holed made it more difficult for themselves and everyone else.

After steady uphill in a hardwood and conifer forest for 2.6 miles, we arrived at Starr King Overlook expecting spectacular vistas. Socked in, cold blustery gales were our only reward. Persisting in a winter wonderland for another mile, we arrived at a summit engulfed in snow. Just beyond, another overlook was in the clouds.

A few days shy of spring, it turned out to be my coldest hike of the winter. Years ago, I read a book about addiction. My encapsulated version, a sure cure for an addiction is to live long enough to tire of it. Think there is merit to that. I forgot to mention, this was my fourth winter summit of Waumbek. Who’s counting?

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/26/peak-bagging-can-be-addictive/feed/0263Skiing Mount Bluehttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/18/skiing-mount-blue/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/18/skiing-mount-blue/#respondSun, 18 Mar 2018 15:47:11 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=251Just a couple of weeks ago, much of the snow had melted and it appeared an early spring was imminent. Two blockbuster storms later, we have excellent conditions for late winter cross country skiing throughout most of Maine.

Mount Blue State Park offers one of the finest cross country skiing opportunities in western Maine. Located in the mountainous region of Weld, the park has about fifteen miles of trails groomed for classic skiing. Consisting of five loop trails of varying lengths, all are moderately difficult.

Since the trail system does not get the same continuous attention provided at most commercial ski areas, the snow conditions can vary from superb to downright scary. Having experienced scary several times during the twenty five years I’ve been skiing at Mount Blue, I watch for the right combination of snow, consistency and weather. Prior to the almost two hour drive from Topsham, I check the park website for a status report on their grooming efforts.

My preferred ski in the park is the ten mile Maple Trail loop. Other options are two mile Birch Trail and shorter circuits on Fox, Moose and Pine Trails. All of the loops except Pine Trail depart from various points on Central Trail which begins at park headquarters. Pine Trail starts on the western end of Moose Trail.

The extensive Maple Trail offers a wide variety of wilderness settings and several different skiing challenges. Passing through fields, densely wooded areas and old farmlands, it seems the skier is always climbing or descending. About midway through the trek, there is a scenic overlook that offers an excellent chance to pause for a break.

The trailhead is located next to park headquarters on Center Hill Road in Weld where there is a large parking area. Several winter activities are available including a skating rink with a heated yurt. Snowshoe, snowmobile and ski trails all leave from the parking lot next to a kiosk with trail maps. Sliding is an option on Center Hill and arrangements can be made with park staff for winter camping. The day use fee is $5 for adults. Old people like me who are Maine residents get in free. I’d rather be young!

After a recent snowfall, I announced a Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS) ski trip in the park. Two club outdoor regulars, Ken Gordon and Eggman DeCoster, enthusiastically agreed to join me.

The three of us met at the parking area intent on skiing Maple Trail loop. Trails had recently been groomed with set tracks and there was a fresh layer of powder from the previous night making for exceptional conditions. Leaving on Central Trail, we soon crossed Center Hill Road and passed Moose and Fox Trails on the left. Climbing steadily, we arrived at the first downhill test. Perhaps the steepest drop on the loop, I’ve had more than my share of mishaps on the uneven, attenuated pitch. The new snow facilitated our snowplow turns and we all had accident free descents.

Just beyond is the junction for Birch and Maple Trails. Turning left, we began Maple Trail loop. Climbing a long gradual hill, we passed a vacant home and traversed an open field with excellent views northwest. Accessing a thick hardwood forest, we savored an extended circuitous descent before again crossing Center Hill Road. After a short uphill, a steep twisting downward slope was encountered. Complicated by a narrow road intersecting in the middle, we carefully negotiated the difficult, stimulating section of trail.

Following more downhill, we turned south and began the longest ascent of the day. Angling right in a conifer forest, we arrived at a lean-to located at the junction of a spur trail leading to Hedgehog Hill Overlook. A precipitous knoll, we experienced exceptional panoramic vistas of Tumbledown and Jackson Mountains from the scenic ridge.

Lingering for a relaxing lunch, our excursion continued with another long gentle downhill ski. Turning abruptly west, we experienced a protracted decline before spanning a bridge over Fran Brook at the bottom. Price for the downhill was a continual climb that took us through part of Birch Trail loop and back to Center Hill Road. Soon after, we rejoined Central Trail ending the Maple Trail tour.

Finishing our trek with a steep ascent followed by a gentle downhill and one final road crossing, we spent about three hours on the trail, including lunch at the overlook. Park literature says Maple Trail loop is ten miles long. I’m not sure if that distance includes the Central Trail. Regardless, it’s a rigorous workout on a remarkable trail.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/18/skiing-mount-blue/feed/0251The Other Sunday Riverhttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/10/the-other-sunday-river/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/10/the-other-sunday-river/#respondSat, 10 Mar 2018 20:21:43 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=244When Sunday River is mentioned, I suspect most people think of the ski resort. Not me. Instead, the mountain Sunday River Whitecap immediately comes to mind.

Sunday River Whitecap is not part of the collection of mountains that constitute the ski resort. Rather, it is located on the opposite side of Sunday River Valley about three miles north on the southeastern end of the Mahoosuc Range. At an elevation of 3,337 feet, it is not a particularly high peak but its barren summit offers unique and exceptional 360 degree views of the Mahoosuc Range and the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

Grafton Notch Loop Trail provides access to the summit from Route 26 in North Newry. An over fourteen-mile out and back hike that includes ascending Stowe Mountain, it is an arduous winter trek. My Penobscot Paddle and Chowder Society (PPCS) friends and I have been climbing a shorter alternative route for many years.

The Grafton Notch area has some of the finest mountain hiking in Maine. The Appalachian Trail journeys over Goose Eye, Mahoosuc Arm, Old Speck, West and East Baldpate Mountains. The relatively new Grafton Notch Loop Trail is 38.6 miles long. Beginning on the east side of Route 26, it traverses north over Puzzle, Long and the Baldpates before dropping down to Grafton Notch. Ascending Old Speck, it turns southeast and climbs Slide Mountain, Sunday River Whitecap and Stowe Mountain before returning to the North Newry Trailhead.

I recently proposed a PPCS hike on Sunday River Whitecap. Most of the usual suspects were unavailable but my friend Pete Rowland signed on. A new peak for him, he assumed what appeared to be the obvious; we’d ascend the Grafton Notch Loop Trail. Although he may have been somewhat skeptical of my proposed itinerary, Pete is always ready for an adventure.

From the junction of Routes 2 and 26 in Newry, we traveled north on 26 past the Grafton Notch Loop Trail. Less than a mile beyond the turnoff for Screw Auger Falls, our trek began at a gated dirt road on the left. A GPS enthusiast, Pete endeavored to measure the distance of our excursion.

The snow was hard-packed at the trailhead. Lacking information on what we’d encounter at higher elevations, we added snowshoes and micro spikes to our packs. Just beyond the gate, we connected with Snowmobile Route 82 ITS. Caution needs to be exercised whenever hiking, skiing or biking on snowmobile trails. My advice, when you hear them coming, get completely off the trail.

Turning left, we had easy hiking on the packed snowmobile trail. It was precisely .93 hundredths of a mile from the starting point to a path on the right. Not an obvious trail, rather an attenuated bushwhack, we climbed steadily south joining Grafton Notch Loop Trail in the saddle between Slide Mountain and Sunday River Whitecap.

Following the loop trail southeast, we began ascending more steeply on the shoulder of Whitecap. After about a half mile, we approached the lower end of the mountain’s extensive alpine zone. Trail workers have made extraordinary efforts to protect the fragile alpine ecosystem clearly marking the trail and constructing wooden walkways in several sections. Navigating through a maze of stunted mountain scrub for a short distance, we climbed a precipitous, icy ledge and arrived at the foot of the summit cone. Donning parkas for protection against brisk winds out of the northeast, we had excellent views of the Mahoosucs to the north and Puzzle Mountain behind us.

Following cairns with a combination of ice, hard-packed snow and bare rocks on the remaining ascent to the summit, there was no correct choice for foot gear. Standing at the top with remarkable views of the ski slopes and White Mountains beyond, the distance from Route 26 was 2.98 miles. Based on my prehistoric imprecise math, it’s a six mile roundtrip trek.

Dropping off the west side of the summit for protection from the wind, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch while savoring truly exceptional vistas facing west. Having carried snowshoes to the summit, we resolved to use them on our return. Descending at a rapid pace, we were back to the snowmobile trail without ever stopping to put them on. The added weight provided for a better workout, right?

At that point, we hadn’t seen a solitary person during the hike. Part way back to the Route 26 trailhead, we met a large group of boys with a couple of leaders resting in the snow just off the trail on what appeared to be an overnight expedition. Having matured beyond frigid nights in windswept tents, I was ready for a warm toasty evening at home with pleasant memories of a most excellent day on the mountain.

]]>http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/10/the-other-sunday-river/feed/0244To Ski or Not to Skihttp://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/03/to-ski-or-not-to-ski/
http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/2018/03/03/to-ski-or-not-to-ski/#respondSat, 03 Mar 2018 14:23:44 +0000http://rchase.bangordailynews.com/?p=237Recent warm rainy weather has dramatically worsened ski conditions along the Maine coastal plain. Most of the quality snow is gone and ski areas like Pineland and Harris Farms have struggled to stay open. Enthusiastic about the Nordic ski workout and reluctant to let winter go, a dilemma for me has become to ski or not to ski. To ski, I need to drive about two hours inland to the White Mountains or western Maine, further for northern alternatives.

Mountain ski areas usually hold snow long after it has melted or evaporated locally. Some of the commercial venues that have historically retained prolonged snow are the Nordic Heritage Trails in Presque Isle, Rangeley Lakes Trails in Rangeley, Sugarloaf Outdoor Center in Carrabassett Valley and Jackson Ski Touring in Jackson, New Hampshire.

I haven’t completed exhaustive research but for my money Jackson Ski Touring offers the preeminent commercial cross country ski experience south of the Canadian border. Jackson maintains 150 kilometers of trails some of them on the very top end of the difficulty scale. An aging conservative skier, I require prime snow conditions to challenge their more demanding trails.

Some of my most stimulating exacting cross country ski adventures occurred within a ten mile radius of Jackson. Climbing Mount Washington on the Lion’s Head Trail with my longtime friends Ken Gordon and Gary Cole a couple of decades ago, we cross country skied down the Auto Road. Lots of fresh powder provided manageable very exciting skiing on the top half. No so below the midway point. Warmer temperatures at lower elevations had resulted in melting and refreezing leaving an icy hard-packed surface. After several falls, we walked most of the remainder.

Jackson Ski Touring offers a package that includes a gondola ride to the summit of Wildcat Mountain followed by a circuitous cross country trek to groomed Jackson trails connecting with the Lodge. My friends and I have descended from Wildcat twice but the upper section is very steep and technical. Another nearby trail that we did on one occasion is the equally challenging Avalanche Brook Trail. Beginning near Pinkham Notch, it connects with the Jackson trail system at the north end of the Ellis River and North Hall Trails. Unless I miraculously acquire someone else’s hips and knees, I don’t anticipate returning to either.

Jackson does have a combination of interconnected normally groomed trails that offer some formidable scenic higher elevation skiing. Now both retired, Ken Gordon and I recently returned to Jackson the day after a snowfall for a run on our favorite Jackson traverse. Beginning on North Hall Trail, climbing to and around Maple Mountain Loop followed by a steady downward slope to Jackson Lodge, it’s about a twelve mile mountainous excursion.

Arriving at the lodge, we learned North Hall Trail hadn’t been groomed for several days. A discussion with Jackson employees on the potential conditions was inconclusive. Gambling that the new snow would provide cushion for a quality ski event on the difficult trail, we left one vehicle in the parking lot and drove north to Rocky Branch Trailhead.

We made the right choice encountering about three inches of soft snow at the trailhead. After climbing steadily on North Hall for more than an hour, I had my first controlled descent on the most difficult drop in this section. Sporting a hairpin turn at the bottom, some of my previous attempts would be fodder for a bloopers video. A better skier, Ken always seems to be in control.

Reaching groomed Maple Mountain Loop, we had thin but adequate snow for our circumnavigation. Stopping for a snack at a scenic location near the highpoint, an exceedingly exhilarating long downhill ride to South Hall Trail followed. Continuing for a short distance, we arrived at a junction with the relatively new Keeney Trail.

Rated most difficult, neither of us had skied Keeney but it was on both of our bucket lists. Given the exceptional snow, it seemed like the ideal day to test our skills.

Down, down, down for two and half miles would be my description. Agreeing that we would forego this unique entertaining trail if icy conditions prevailed, Keeney was simply superb. Connecting with the Ellis River Trail, we savored even more downhill on a long intermediate decline.

Skiing along the river to Jackson, we were reminded that it would only be a few more weeks before we’d be back to kayak the Class IV Ellis River whitewater run. In the interim, there is more skiing to be had. At our ages, we don’t want to hurry time along, it moves fast enough. Carpe diem!